


Stay

by elumish



Series: Werewolves 101 [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bondage, Gags, M/M, Professor Stiles Stilinski, Writer Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek runs a hand down Stiles’s bare chest, and he shudders at the heat against the slight chill of the room. “You need anything else? More clothes? Less clothes?”</p><p>“Technically it would be fewer—ow.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So chapter three of Nous Vous Protégeons is kicking my ass, which means that I've started another couple of pieces, including this one. 
> 
> Also, there is no sex, but I put it as Mature anyway just to be safe.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles pulls on the restraints, which have just enough give that they don’t cut off his circulation but wouldn’t let him out. Which is perfect. “Yeah. I’m good. Green.”

Derek runs a hand down Stiles’s bare chest, and he shudders at the heat against the slight chill of the room. “You need anything else? More clothes? Less clothes?”

“Technically it would be fewer—ow.” Derek’s thumb smooths over the spot he had pinched, and then his hand goes back to smoothing down his stomach. “No, I’m good.” He’s in just his boxers, and it’s warm enough in the room that he doesn’t need anything else. “Totally green.”

“Great.” And then he sits down in the chair next to the bed with his feet propped up so they’re just past Stiles’s feet, picks his laptop up, and starts typing.

They’re there for a minute, Stiles breathing through the pleasure and a little bit of panic of being tied to the headboard, strapped at the thighs to the bed, Derek typing, and then he asks, “Is this it?”

Derek rolls his eyes up so he can look at Stiles, still typing, which would be more impressive if Stiles didn’t do the same thing to freak people out. “Excuse me?”

Stiles tries to shrug, which doesn’t really happen because, hey, tied up. “I mean, not that I don’t love being tied up, but you’re just…typing. You’re not even admiring my amazing physique or anything.”

“I’m busy.”

Stiles flexes his toe just enough to poke Derek’s foot. “You’re my boyfriend; shouldn’t adoring my not-quite-there-because-I-don’t-work-out-enough abs be your top priority?”

“Nope.” And then he goes back to typing.

And Stiles knows that this was the plan, but Stiles is not known for leaving well enough alone, even with his mind starting to turn itself off because there’s _nothing he has to do_ , so he only lasts maybe three minutes before nudging Derek again. “Hey.”

“If you keep talking, I’m going to gag you.”

Heat rushes through him, and he asks, “Really?” a lot more longingly than he had intended.

Derek stares at him for a second, then stands up and walks over past somewhere he can see from how he can lift his head up. And then he walks back, and holy shit, that’s a ball gag in his hand. “I haven’t used this on anyone else, and it’s been sterilized. Color?”

“Green. And you got this for—mmph.” The ball is fitted in his mouth, muffling what he was going to stay, and then Derek’s hands are gentle behind his head, securing it and shifting the fastening so it isn’t stabbing into the back of Stiles’s head. “Holy shit,” he tries to say, but it comes out as just noise, and holy shit.

“Nod if you’re okay.” Stiles nods, because yes, this is okay. This is more than okay. This is—even with the fact that this is going to make his jaw hurt and the little bit of ache that is always there in his shoulder—this is fantastic. More than he had ever thought it would be, before Derek gagged him to get him to stop panicking. Because one of the reasons he likes being held down is so he doesn’t have to do anything, and when he’s gagged he doesn’t need to talk.

Derek touches a hand to the side of his face. “Get out of your head.”

Stiles nods again, even though it’s not that easy, and Derek sits back down and picks up his laptop again, propping his feet back up on the bed. But they’re closer to Stiles’s feet now, and he says, “If you need out of the gag, tap twice. Can you do that?” Stiles flexes his foot twice, tapping it against Derek’s, and Derek smiles at him. Which makes him feel warm inside, like when he does something to help the pack, and he smiles back. “If you need out of everything, tap three times. Try it.” Stiles does. “Okay, good. And I’m serious about this. If you need out, don’t lay there panicking. Tap out. There’s no shame in it.”

Stiles taps once to show that he understands—because he does, he really does, and the only reason he hadn’t tapped out when he was panicking was because he hadn’t remembered that there was a way to do that—and Derek leans forward to rest a hand on his ankle, just briefly, just a touch of warmth. And then he goes back to typing.

Stiles wants to say something again, this time, except he can’t, he can’t physically shape the words, he can’t get his mouth to move to form the sounds that he wants to say, and somehow now it doesn’t seem worth the effort, worth figuring out how to get the sounds to make sense so Derek can know what he’s trying to say, so he just lets it go, and that feels good, somehow, like there’s one less thing being held in his throat, behind his shoulders, in the press of his spine, and there are too many things there, normally, but now there’s nothing, it’s empty, his hands are empty and there’s nothing he has to do and there’s nobody he has to save.

And Derek will protect him if he needs to, because Derek can, because Derek doesn’t have an Allison or an Isaac or a Kira, and maybe Stiles is Derek’s Allison, except without the going away, so maybe he’s Derek’s Allison plus Derek’s Kira, and maybe he’ll save Stiles when he needs it. Maybe he won’t make Stiles save himself.

And it feels like that’s another piece gone, and Stiles sinks back a little further into the mattress, and he thinks his eyes are closed but he doesn’t really care, and he’s just breathing, now, that’s all he’s doing, that’s all he needs to do, and now, finally, he can let go.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles starts coming up (down? He’s not too sure of directions anymore, and he thinks this might be floating but maybe it’s drowning) when his first leg comes undone. But he doesn’t want to come up, because up means life and words and thoughts and having to do stuff, so he squeezes his eyes tighter shut because maybe if he doesn’t look he won’t have to do anything.

But there’s a hand on his other leg, then, and then it’s free too, and the hand running over his leg feels good, and the lips against it, and he can sink back down a little bit because it’s warm and safe and _Derek_. But then there are hands behind his head and on his jaw and the gag is being removed with spit dragging out of his mouth and across his lips and he feels empty and a little bit cold.

“Shh, shh.” Lips touch his, briefly, and he wants to move his but he can’t figure out how to, and then there are fingers on his wrists, pulling one of the ropes off and rubbing, and he doesn’t want to do anything, he doesn’t want to move, so he lets Derek move him, because he wants to do what Derek wants, and he knows Derek won’t hurt him. And then his other hand is free, too, and Derek is saying something. “I’m going to give you some water. Can you sit up?”

Stiles isn’t sure which direction is up, exactly, and he’s not sure if he can move, and he tries to say that but his mouth isn’t working quite properly, so it doesn’t come out as words. But Derek wants him to make more than words, and he wants to, but his jaw hurts, and it’s stiff, and he can’t figure out how to say it and—

“Shh, it’s okay.” Derek’s hands are on his back, moving him, and then his back is against the headboard and there’s a glass to his lips, and he swallows, and the water feels good. “Are you good?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Does your jaw hurt? Do you want me to take some of the pain?”

Stiles thinks that there might be an answer to this, but he’s not sure, and he’s not sure how to answer, so he just says, “Mmm,” because it’s an answer.

Derek’s fingers touch his jaw, light and warm. “Okay. If you want me to, just let me know.”

Stiles will, or he thinks he will, as much as he can think right now, which is not much, because most of his brain is still floating or drowning or a little bit of both, and his head is heavy so it leans it against Derek, but he misses his shoulder and ends up on his chest, and it’s a nice chest, and Stiles turns so he can taste it because it tastes good and ripples under his tongue.

There’s a hand against his cheek, just touching, and it feels good, and it’s warm, but the rest of him is cold, now, shivering, because he’s coming out of the warm place in his head and he’s almost naked and the room is cold and all of his muscles are trembling and shaking and jumping under his skin.

“Hey.” The hand moves from his face to his neck, then tilts his head up, and Stiles opens his eyes just enough to see Derek’s face blurred above him. “Are you cold?”

Stiles nods, or tries to, his head flopping against Derek’s chest, and Derek laughs a little. Which is a good sound. Stiles wants more of that sound. “Wow, you’re out of it.”

Stiles does the flappy head nod again. “S’rry.”

“Don’t be—you look gorgeous this way, all blissed out and warm and shiny lips and trusting. Because you trust me, like a good boy, don’t you?”

Stiles nods again because he does, he really does, and blurry Derek smiles.

“That’s right. That’s good. But you’re cold, and I’m going to take care of you. So we’re getting up.”

Stiles isn’t sure how to get up, isn’t positive where his legs are or how to move them, and he’s going to say that, but then Derek’s arm is under his legs and under his shoulders and he’s up and they’re moving and the ceiling is moving over him which is kind of unnerving, but he knows Derek won’t drop him, so he just turns into Derek and squishes his head against his chest.

They end up in the bathroom, and Derek puts him down and helps him pull his boxers off and then leans over and turns the water on, and then they stand there with Stiles leaning his entire body against Derek, who is maybe undressing with one hand. And then the room fills up with steam, and Derek shuffles Stiles into the shower, and it’s so warm that he moans a little.

“You okay?”

Stiles nods, because hell yeah, this feels fantastic, and Derek’s arms are around him, holding him up, and he just doesn’t want to move. But Derek is in front of him, and he’s hard, and Stiles wants to do something for him, so he reaches down and grabs on, running his hand all the way down the length of Derek’s dick before Derek’s hand moves from his shoulder to grab his wrist. “What are you doing?”

Stiles leans up to kiss him, and Derek kisses back for just a second, then pushes back, and ugh, no, he wants to be close. “I want to make you feel good.” Though it comes out more like “I wanna make y’feel g’d,” which is basically the same thing.

Derek touches his forehead down to rest against his. “Can you tell me your safe word?”

He can, but he’s not going to need it because it’s Derek, so he just says, “Mmm.”

“Then no.” Stiles whines, because he _wants to_ , and Derek pulls him closer and fits their mouths together. “I’m not going to do anything until I know you have the presence of mind to tap out if you need to.”

Stiles leans forward and sucks on Derek’s skin, instead, because if he can’t do that then at least he wants to taste him. Though, “Your skin isn’t pully enough.” He tries to suck on it again, and Derek is so muscly that the skin doesn’t want to come away. “And you don’t bruise. You should bruise more.”

Derek laughs. “I’ll work on that. Are you warm enough?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m going to wash you now.” And then he moves away, and Stiles sways where he’s staying as the water rushes over his head, and he’s coming more to himself now, his head clearing, and ugh, he’s probably going to have to do something now. Like check his syllabi or his reading lists or—

A hand settles on the back of his neck, then slides down his back, soapy and slick. “You need to get out of your head.”

“Well you need to get out of my…face.” Because that made sense, with Derek standing behind him, hands sliding over his sides (and snickering, damn it). “Shut up. Don’t laugh at me.”

“Never.”

Stiles leans back against him, because he’s even warmer than the water (and because Stiles is too lazy to keep himself standing at the moment), and he slides soapy hands across his stomach. “Liar.” They stand there for a minute, Derek’s hands running up and down Stiles’s skin, and then Stiles starts to stand up straight, pull away. “I should—”

Derek yanks him back. “Nope.”

“—wash up. I can take care of—”

“Still nope.”

“—myself. Really, Derek, are you going to keep interrupting me?”

“Yep.” He brushes his lips over the juncture between Stiles’s neck and his shoulder, and Stiles shudders. “As long as you keep saying stupid things. You’re not going to do anything except let me wash you, and then we’re going to cuddle. Let me take care of you.”

He can’t really argue with that, and it does sound nice, so he just leans back against Derek and closes his eyes against the water pelting down at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you (basically all) voted for aftercare, so I hope this satisfies you. 
> 
> Also, it was really entertaining, those of you who were like "aftercare so he can suffer later :)".

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to have this end in panic-y things, and then I realized I have basically everything end in panic-y things, so here are the choices: either the next chapter will be panic and then Derek reassuring him or the next chapter will be aftercare with no panic-y things. Thoughts?


End file.
